


People Are Boring (But You're Something Else Completely)

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: It takes about five seconds for Daisy to decide that she likes this Jemma. She never feels like this about the other parents; sometimes they’re older than she is or look down on the fact that it’s just her and her son. But Jemma…she thinks she’s going to like Jemma.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a very self indulgent AU that came about pretty much because I've been obsessed with the show Big Little Lies. I just really wanted to do something with Jemma and Daisy and their kids so...ta da, here we are. (Big Little Lies has consumed my life so I thought why not bring all my favorites together?!) The name of Daisy's son comes straight from Big Little Lies. The title of this story comes from the song "Chateau Lobby #4" by Father John Misty. 
> 
> There are brief mentions of implied abuse toward the middle of the story.

"You like school, right? Like you like your teacher?"

It's with a growing sense of horror that Daisy realizes that she can't remember if she's asked this question before. Her son has been in school for a month; they talk about his day every afternoon and over dinner. Surely she's asked if her kid actually enjoys the woman assigned to handle his education.

Daisy glances behind her, taking note of the little tow headed boy in the back seat. She's sure his blonde hair is going to turn darker like hers one day…and darker like his father's, not that that matters much to either of them. For now she's stuck with this adorable, strangely blonde six-year-old with her eyes but without her propensity to forgetfulness and rambling conversation. Ziggy is quiet, thoughtful, self-contained and nodding an answer to her question as he finishes a cookie snagged for dessert on their way out the door. "Yes, Mom," he says, kicking his legs. "Ms. Stewart is really nice."

"And you have friends?" Daisy presses, alternating between watching the road and watching Ziggy. "The other kids are nice to you?"

Ziggy rolls his eyes. "Yes!" He groans, exacerbated. "I told you! Charlie is my best friend!"

"Oh, Charlie, right." She's heard this name before. Good. Her kid has friends and likes his teacher. Check. Hopefully this parent conference will be a breeze.

Daisy is a little embarrassed by the number of mental pep talks she's had to give herself recently. It's not like it's a one-on-one conference; it's not like Ziggy has gotten into trouble. And it's not like _she's_ in trouble, not that it's easy to stamp down the memories of the many foster-parent-teacher conferences she'd been subjected to before dropping out. It's just a parent night and there will be a classroom full of parents. It'll be great, no flashbacks necessary.

Daisy pulls into the parking lot, already bursting with cars. She can see well-dressed parents following excited kids into the building or tugging reluctant, older students behind them. The kids will be filed into the cafeteria for games and art projects while the parents meet with teachers and learn about policies and procedures.

"Mom!" Ziggy is already out of the car, bouncing around impatiently. "Hurry! You get to sit at my desk!"

Daisy laughs. "Slow your roll, mister. We're in a parking lot." Dutifully Ziggy settles down, slipping his hand into hers. Though it isn't long before he's tugging her toward the school.

Ziggy's interest in telling Daisy about his school only lasts until he gets to the cafeteria and he spots someone inside, grinning and waving and leaving Daisy behind in the dust. Honestly, it just fills Daisy with relief; she wants her kid to be happy and content and to enjoy school. She wants him to have friends and be smart and have a boring and uneventful childhood. It's one of the many reasons Ward isn't in the picture.

Daisy finds Ms. Stewart's classroom easily, weaving between other parents who seem more interested in talking to each other than in getting out of the way. Ms. Stewart is young and every time Daisy has seen her she's been cheerful and smiling. She is now, standing by the door, shaking hands, smiling and instructing the parents to sit in the desk with their child's name.

Ziggy's desk is toward the back window and the name written on the desk beside his says "Charlotte D." in flowing script. There's a woman sitting there and she doesn't look much older than Daisy. She's sitting with her hands flat on the desk, her focus on a lesson that has yet to begin. It makes Daisy smile imagining what her kid is like.

She must feel Daisy's eyes on her because she turns her head, smiling politely. Her grin quickly brightens when she notices the name on the desk. "Oh! You're Ziggy's mother," she says cheerfully. "I'm Jemma. Charlotte is my daughter; she talks about Ziggy all the time. I was hoping we'd get a chance to run into each other."

Daisy hopes that her awkward uncertainty isn't showing on her face. She racks her brain, trying to remember if Ziggy ever mentioned the name Charlotte. She feels bad for this little girl who clearly loves Ziggy even though he hasn't thought to bring her up. "Oh…uh…yeah." She smiles, nodding. "I'm Daisy. It's nice to meet you."

"I swear since school started it's been Ziggy-this and Ziggy-that," Jemma continues. Daisy doesn't mind; she feels like she can listen to this Jemma talk on and on. "Charlie really wants to have him over for a play date but we've just been busy-"

"Oh!" Daisy all but slaps her hand on the desk. "Charlie! Oh, yeah, Ziggy loves her! He just told me that's his best friend." She winces, shaking her head. "I'm kinda terrible…I thought he'd been talking about a boy the whole time."

Jemma waves a dismissive hand. "Well I'm sure you have a million other things on your mind." She shrugs. "I'd always been so adamant that people call her Charlotte but it doesn't seem to fit her as well anymore. She's quite the hellion."

It takes about five seconds for Daisy to decide that she likes this Jemma. She never feels like this about the other parents; sometimes they're older than she is or look down on the fact that it's just her and Ziggy. But Jemma…she thinks she's going to like Jemma. Conversation with her is easy and they talk about their demonic children until Ms. Stewart calls the class to order by clapping her hands together in a way that seems to be as effective with adults it is with first graders.

Occasionally during Ms. Stewart's spiel, Daisy looks over at Jemma and meets her eyes, smirking or making an exaggerated face. Jemma seems particularly skilled at eye rolls and raised eyebrows and Daisy has to purse her lips several times to keep from laughing. Sure Ms. Stewart is sweet and Ziggy loves her so what more does she need but it's obvious her interactions with people over the age of seven could use some work.

When they're finally 'dismissed' Daisy lingers in her seat, turning toward Jemma once more. "Okay I'm really glad you were here to make that bearable."

"Likewise," Jemma assures her. "Definitely helped pass the time."

They get up, leaving the classroom with the other parents. "You and Ziggy will have to come over soon," Jemma says as they walk to the cafeteria. "We can have a playdate."

"I don't think I've ever been invited to a playdate before," Daisy teases.

"Well, they can play," Jemma says. "We can have a little wine."

Daisy grins. "Now you're talking."

Ziggy suddenly comes flying out of the crush of students leaving the cafeteria, a little girl hurrying behind him. She looks like a miniature version of Jemma, right down to her collared blouse and swirling skirt. Her honey hair falls in two braids tied neatly with ribbons and Daisy can't help but smile imagining Jemma tying them carefully each morning.

"Mom look!" Ziggy thrusts a strange Popsicle stick and glue creation into her hands. "I made a boat!"

Charlie has one too and she hands it over to Jemma proudly. "Lovely," Jemma says obediently. "I see you two were busy."

"Mom," Ziggy presses himself to her the way he always does in crowds, uncertain when there are so many people around, "when can Charlie come over? I want to show her my Legos. And Franklin." Franklin is the stuffed owl Daisy's boss and surrogate father gave Ziggy when he was born, though he doesn't often make a habit of showing it off. His friendship with Charlie must be very serious indeed.

Despite Ziggy's desire to show off his collection, they make plans to go to Jemma's on Saturday so they can use the swing set and backyard. Daisy isn't sure why she's just as excited as Ziggy. She just met Jemma, after all. But the thought of getting to see her again so soon brings a smile to her face.

And the smile doesn't disappear over the next three days as the week winds to an end. She and Jemma exchanged numbers before leaving Parent Night and Daisy has found herself texting the other woman occasionally, minor complaints about work or ridiculous things that Ziggy has done or said. Jemma's responses always come quickly, as though she's been waiting for a message from Daisy.

Saturday finally arrives, though a bit earlier than Daisy would have liked when Ziggy takes a flying leap and lands on her stomach while she's attempting to gain a few more minutes of shut eye because God forbid she actually try to sleep in on a weekend. After knocking the breath from her, he rolls over, spreading out like a starfish on the empty right side of the bed. "It's Saturday!" He crows happily. "We get to see Charlie! And have pancakes!"

Daisy assumes those things are not in order, seeing as they usually have pancakes as a Saturday morning treat because they actually have time to loiter around the kitchen and cook. "Ziggy," she groans when she finally has her breath back, "don't you want to rest for a little bit longer?" The clock is painful to look at, the red numbers assuring her that she should still be asleep. She reaches for him, tugging her son to her. "We could cuddle."

Ziggy wrestles away from her, the way he always does whenever she's trying to get him to do something he doesn't want to do. But when he wants to cuddle, well, then she better be willing to be clung to like a vine on a tree because it's totally happening. "Pancakes!" He declares, bouncing around the mattress. "I can help!"

And with that he's off, running toward the kitchen of their apartment, feet thundering loud enough to annoy the neighbors below them. Daisy gets out of bed, splashing water on her face and lazily brushing her teeth as she scrolls through social media on her phone. She shoots a text off to Jemma because she figures that she's the type of person to be up early on a Saturday morning for one reason or another. _What can I bring to the playdate?_

Daisy is right. It doesn't take long before she's getting a reply. She hates the way it makes her smile. _Nothing_ , Jemma assures her, _just you and Ziggy!_

Well she'll definitely be there. She's looking forward to it. She tries not to think too much about that.

Together, she and Ziggy make pancakes, adding in blueberries and chocolate chips where they see fit, trying to make shapes and letters out of the batter. They eat together on the couch, balancing their plates on their knees and watching those PBS shows that make counting games out of everything and turn the characters into superheroes for reading books. "Charlie is really smart," Ziggy declares seemingly out of the blue as the animated characters practice their reading and learn life lessons. "She's really good at reading."

"You're good at reading too, Zig," Daisy assures him. "You're smart. Smarter than me." She elbows him playfully.

Ziggy crinkles up his nose, shaking his head. "No way, Mom." He waves her away dismissively and Daisy rolls her eyes, though the gesture is lost on him.

After doing the dishes and picking up around the house, it's time to get ready to head off to Jemma's. To Jemma and Charlie's, Daisy reminds herself, because the little girl is why they're going in the first place. Though she has a feeling she doesn't stand around in her closet debating her outfit because of a six-year-old. Not that it makes any more sense to stand around debating her outfit because of Jemma.

Even though Jemma had told her not to bother to bring anything, Daisy stops by the store on the way to grab a box of cookies from the bakery, holding tightly to Ziggy's hand the entire time so he doesn't wander off and start grabbing things she doesn't want to have to pay for. It doesn't take long to get to Jemma's from her apartment and she parks her car in the driveway behind the red Prius she assumes belongs to Jemma.

Though, it could be a husband's. Daisy hadn't really thought about that aspect of it before, not that it matters.

The house is small, a one story with a fence hiding the backyard from view and there's a rocking chair on the small porch out front. Ziggy flies up the front steps, ringing the bell impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he wants for it to open.

Not that it takes long; the front door swings open and there's Charlie, grinning widely. They immediately burst into laughter, scampering off into the house like Ziggy has been there a thousand times before. Jemma takes Charlie's place at the door, smiling and waving to Daisy as she walks onto the porch. "Well I guess they're excited." She smiles when Daisy holds out the box of cookies. "Ooh, biscuits. Thank you, Daisy, that was sweet."

Daisy rolls her eyes. "You know you're in America now, right? Here we call them cookies," she teases as she follows Jemma into the house. "Cute place."

And it is; it's as orderly and organized as she'd expect from a woman who sat so prim and proper in a six-year-old's desk. Everything matches and there are magazines and papers spread out on the coffee table; there are a few toys laying out on the floor but everything seems to be tucked into the oak chest in the corner with the name 'Charlotte' stenciled across the top. The mantle is crowded with photographs and there's a blanket draped across the back of the couch.

"Can I get you anything?" Jemma offers, tilting her head toward the kitchen. "Water? Anything?"

Daisy accepts the offer for water and when Jemma wanders off she gives into her curiosity, stepping closer to the mantle to study the pictures there. Most of them are of Charlie throughout the first six years of her life, doing the things that children do during the early years of their lives. There are a few of Jemma with a male couple and a few more of the curly haired guy holding Charlie as a baby and a toddler and some of Jemma with people Daisy assumes to her parents judging by the resemblance.

There's one picture of Jemma with a dark-haired guy, scruff on his face and features that Daisy recognizes immediately in Charlie, despite the girl being a copy of Jemma. It's the only picture of him anywhere that she can see and Daisy has to admit that her curiosity isn't the least bit diminished.

"That's Will," Jemma says without preamble as she comes back into the room. Daisy jumps in surprise, trying to press down the guilty feeling that slips into her chest. She isn't snooping, after all; the pictures are out for anyone to see. Jemma comes to stand beside her, handing over the water. "Charlotte's father."

Daisy nods, taking a sip from her water. She tries as casually as possible to ask, "And is he…" Though she doesn't think it comes out very casually at all.

Jemma glances at the picture and there's a heavy pause, the kind that comes from the moment where someone decides whether they're going to admit something personal. "He died." She says it like someone might say something they've shared too many times before, almost like it doesn't have anything to do with her at all, not anymore. "We were only together six months, which seems ridiculous to think about. I'd just found out I was pregnant with Charlotte and…there was an accident at work."

Daisy purses her lips, look away from the picture and toward Jemma. "I'm sorry," she says before she can think of something more worthwhile. "I'm-"

Jemma waves a hand. "It's fine. It's…it was a while ago." She turns away, leading to way to the plush looking couch. Daisy sits beside her, watching as Jemma tucks her feet underneath her as she makes herself comfortable.

For a minute it seems like Jemma is going to ask her the perfectly natural question that would surely follow their discussion. But the moment passes without Jemma saying anything at all and Daisy feels an odd sense of relief; she isn't sure that she's ready to talk about Ward, even though Jemma just told her about Will.

Instead, they pick up the same easy conversation they shared at Parent's Night and throughout the text messages that they've been exchanging over the course of the week. Their conversation is occasionally punctuated by the sounds of Ziggy and Charlie running throughout the house or laughing uproariously in Charlie's room but since they haven't heard the sound of anything getting destroyed Daisy figures that everything is going well. Honestly, Daisy is surprised by how much she's enjoying herself. She's always done her best to avoid any sort of playdate or birthday party that would require prolonged interaction with the other parents but with Jemma it's easy and Daisy is surprised by how much she's smiling, how easy it is to laugh, how easy it is to talk about a variety of things, from their kids to their jobs to things they've read or seen or just wondered about.

The way that Jemma really seems to listen to her, eyes sparkling with interest like every word that Daisy utters is brilliant, doesn't hurt either.

It's a bit disappointing when Charlie and Ziggy come scampering in, sweaty and red-faced from running around outside and remind Daisy that it's been a while since she and Ziggy made pancakes. It's a little late for lunch but she follows Jemma into the kitchen, offering to help put the sandwiches together while Charlie and Ziggy find something to watch on TV.

"Thanks for inviting us over," Daisy says for what feels like the fifth time. "I've really…" She hesitates for a minute, embarrassed, but it's too late to back down now so she just finishes: "I've really enjoyed talking to you."

She's rewarded with a bright smile so it's all worth it. "I know what you mean," Jemma agrees, passing the loaf of bread over to Daisy. "It's nice to have a friend."

Daisy nods and an odd feeling of certainty and contentment settles over her chest as though fate is assuring her that Jemma's going to be around for a while. "Yeah," Daisy agrees with a nod. "It is."

* * *

 

The texts to and from Jemma become a more frequent thing, something Daisy just comes to accept about her day. She doesn't see Jemma because she puts Ziggy on the bus every morning because she doesn't have the time with her schedule to drop him off at school but Daisy feels like her phone is always in her hand and that she's always hoping to see a message from Jemma whenever she looks at her screen. It's odd how quickly it becomes a part of her routine; it's odd how Jemma suddenly becomes the first person that she wants to text whenever something notable or frustrating happens. Jemma has quickly become her closest friend, the one person in the world who truly seems to understand how she's feeling, who knows how overwhelming it can be to do everything all by herself and at the same time know that that's no way she'd trade away even a minute of it.

When the weekend rolls around again, Jemma and Charlie come over to the small apartment that Daisy has spent the past forty-eight hours frantically cleaning and fretting over. The space is perfect for her and Ziggy: two bedrooms, a cozy living room and merges into the dining room and kitchen and a little laundry room for her second-hand washer and dryer. There's a bathroom they share, kept tidy because of Daisy's insistence that she doesn't want to have to worry about stepping on rubber ducks or army men when she's trying to shower in the mornings. But all Daisy can think about is that it doesn't seem cute or charming in the way that Jemma's place did but all her wishing and vacuuming isn't going to change its size.

Not that Jemma seems to notice the difference in their homes or care anything about that at all. She's all smiles when Daisy opens the door, just like Charlie and Ziggy is quick to grab Charlie by the arm, tugging her down the short hallway to his bedroom. The door slams shut and Daisy rolls her eyes. "I can see where we're not wanted."

"I think Charlie only wanted me to come along because she can't drive herself yet," Jemma remarks as she walks into the apartment.

"Well I want you here," Daisy tells her without thinking about the words. She smiles tentatively at Jemma. "You're welcome with or without the kids."

Jemma's smile is soft, hopeful and she nods. "Likewise. Though we might need to start scheduling these things a little later in the day if we're ever going to get to the wine we talked about earlier."

Daisy inclines her head toward the kitchen and the half-empty bottle she can see sitting on the counter. "I mean…was it is that they say about it being five o'clock somewhere?"

In the end that skip the wine, taking their ice water to the kitchen table. Daisy likes to sit here and work sometimes when she takes projects home with her; the apartment is on the third floor and she likes the view, how she can see the rest of the complex sprawling out below her window: the pool, a playground, the parking lot and streets beyond.

Jemma sits quietly, staring out the window, her hands wrapped around the sweating glass. Daisy watches her for a second, letting her brow furrow. "Is everything okay?"

Jemma looks at her, almost surprised that she'd asked. "Oh, yes. Sorry…I was just…" She shakes her head. "It's been a long week."

Daisy lifts an eyebrow. "Should we get the wine after all?" Her tone is light and teasing but the question is sincere.

"Not yet," Jemma says with a hint of a smile. "I'm just glad you were up for another playdate. It's good to be around someone other than a six-year-old."

Daisy absently reaches out, letting her hand brush against Jemma's. Jemma loops their fingers together, giving her hand a squeeze.

It's in that moment that Daisy feels the start of the thread stretch between them, filling her with the odd sensation that even if she pulled her hand away they'd still be connected, albeit by something invisible, thin and tenuous. It's an odd way to feel about someone she's only just met but irrefutable nonetheless.

* * *

 

By the time Ziggy and Charlie grow bored enough to want to leave the apartment for some fresh air, Jemma's previous melancholy seems to have disappeared and Daisy loves the easy, causal way that she smiles, like she's never worried about running out of things or reasons that make her grin.

They decide to walk two blocks from the apartment to Ziggy's favorite ice cream place -and Daisy's secret weapon for whenever she needs to get Ziggy to just do what she needs him to- and Daisy walks beside Jemma as they watch Ziggy and Charlie happily skipping a few feet ahead. They're holding hands, swinging their arms back and forth as they laugh and chatter.

"Did you ever have a friend like that when you were little?" Daisy questions around the bubbly feeling in her chest. Ziggy's happiness has become so impossibly important to her and she loves the lightness that she sees in her son, the way his first instinct about any situation is a naïve and innocent one.

Jemma nods. "I still do, actually. Fitz and I have been friends since we were little kids; we were both incorrigible and insufferable most of the time, so we were the only ones who could stand each other." She rolls her eyes at the memory of herself. "Am I getting the hint that you didn't?"

The question that Daisy can detect in Jemma's voice isn't about whether she had many friends growing up but whether she wants to talk about it.

Daisy makes a face. "I grew up in the foster system after my parents died when I was little," she says. She can hear that her voice has the same tone that Jemma's did last week, when she'd talked about Will, like she's referring to something that happened to someone else a long time ago. "Lots of different foster homes, lots of moving around. Kinda made the friend thing a little difficult."

Jemma doesn't say anything but Daisy can see a soft sympathy in her eyes, like she understands more than what Daisy is saying. Like she knows that Daisy is talking about more than her lack of stability but the pressure that comes from not wanting Ziggy to experience the same things.

It's probably what makes it easy for Daisy to add, "Sometimes I think I'm like that crazy parent that just wants everything to be perfect all the time and freaks out if my kid is ever unhappy." She shakes her head. "I mean I know that's not realistic but I just don't ever want him to feel the way I did, not even for second…" She stops, surprised by the tightness in her voice and the ease with which she just said all of this to Jemma. The stuff about being in the system, the things that worry her at night when she's trying to fall asleep.

This time it's Jemma who reaches for her hand but Daisy can feel that invisible string all the same, the indelible connection growing between them. For a few seconds they mirror Ziggy and Charlie, walking down the sidewalk hand in hand.

* * *

 

Jemma invites her to coffee the next week, telling Daisy that the weather has been so nice that the only thing she wants to do with her free afternoon is sit outside and enjoy it. Daisy spends most of her morning cajoling Coulson into letting her take the afternoon off and work from home. She's not sure how much work is actually going to get done but it'll be worth it even if she has to spend the hours after dinner trying to catch up so Coulson doesn't find out that she's really just interested in playing hooky.

Jemma is already sitting outside at one of the wire-topped tables when Daisy gets there and Daisy notices for the first time how beautiful Jemma really is. The sun brings out her freckles and makes her hair shine. Daisy feels a tug in her chest, very different from the one she'd felt when she'd realized that she'd made a true friend in Jemma.

"Thanks for meeting me," Jemma says when Daisy sits down across from her. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble to-"

"Are you kidding me?" Daisy interrupts with an eyeroll. "Really I just need the excuse to get away from work."

Jemma is quick to second that, launching into a story about something ridiculous one of her colleagues had done that morning. It isn't hard for Daisy to keep up and her smiling and laughing is genuine; she's heard Jemma talk about her job so much that she knows all the players in her story.

Just like Jemma knows exactly who Coulson is when Daisy tells her own story about convincing him to let her off early. A crease appears in Jemma's forehead, a sign that Daisy has come to recognize means that the conversation is about to shift toward something more serious. "Did you meet Coulson when you were still in the foster system?"

Daisy shakes her head. "No. I…I dropped out of school when I was sixteen and ran away, I just couldn't deal with it anymore." She waves a hand as though to push aside the thoughts, memories, mention of St. Agnes and the years she'd spent bouncing from family to family. "I was…maybe twenty-one when I met him? I was a mess." She crinkles her nose at the memory, though she can still feel it on her skin. "He really helped me get it together, gave me a job…I don't know what I would have done without him after Ziggy was born."

Daisy knows that Coulson not-so-secretly loves the fact that Ziggy calls him Grandpa and that Ziggy considers Coulson and his wife Melinda to be his grandparents. They've spent every holiday at their house and there have been plenty of times where Daisy has looked at the four of them together and imagined that she fits in just fine.

Jemma smiles, as though somehow she understands the memories playing through Daisy's mind, all the holidays and birthdays and those early months with Ziggy. She hesitates only a moment before asking, "What about Ziggy's father."

Daisy makes a face, which is pretty much a subconscious reaction whenever it comes to someone mentioning Ward. Or whenever she thinks about him. She's lucky that Ziggy doesn't seem to favor him very much and she feels all the more lucky that he doesn't seem to have any of Ward's personality.

It seems like an equally subconscious reaction when Jemma reaches across the table and takes Daisy's hand. "We don't have to talk about it."

Her hand is warm and solid and Daisy likes the way they seem to fit together. She shakes her head. "No, it's fine. It's just…" She's not sure how to explain it. It's just that she's ashamed of the time she spent with Ward, the feelings she used to have for him. It's just that sometimes she wishes that she'd never crossed paths with him at all, even if it meant that she wouldn't have Ziggy.

"He's an asshole," Daisy says flatly because there isn't a word out there that really encapsulates Grant Ward completely. "Like I said I was messed up for a while; I met him before I met Coulson and it was…not a good relationship. He was not a good guy, not that I realized it at first. He said he would take care of me and he did, I guess, in this weird, fucked up way.

"Coulson couldn't stand him but I wouldn't listen. I thought people just didn't get it, didn't get him, didn't understand what we'd been through. I thought he understood me but sometimes I think he was just…" Daisy pauses, trying to find the right words. "I think he was just keeping me down with him so he wouldn't be alone. But the more I started to get it together, the worse he got. He tried to get me to quit work all the time, didn't like me talking to Coulson, stuff like that."

Daisy shrugs, leaning back in her chair. "I was thinking about leaving when I got pregnant and then all Ward could talk about was the baby and how he was going to be a great dad and all this stuff but he wasn't really changing anything, not really. He still didn't want me to be around Coulson or his wife, didn't like that there was someone else helping me, someone else I could depend on, other than him."

Jemma is watching her, listening. Her hand is still holding tightly to Daisy's, the crease there in her forehead. Daisy's never talked to anyone about Ward, not even Coulson, partly because he'd been there and partly because she never felt right bringing him up, even after.

Daisy exhales, the breath puffing out her cheeks. "Ziggy was born and I thought maybe…maybe things could work and they'd get better and we'd be this perfect family." She almost laughs at herself but she doesn't have it in her. "Ward wasn't different at all, he didn't change, not even for Ziggy. He still yelled, he still threatened, he still…"

She shakes away the rest. There's still so much that she isn't saying, about being in the system and Ward and her time with him and the things he'd done and said, the person that she knew he was. The person she knew she didn't want near her son. She doesn't want to say those things, not now, on this perfectly sunny day, outside, having coffee with this person across from her. Daisy knows one day she will, that she'll tell Jemma everything. But now…now there's the sun and a perfect breeze and perfect company.

"Ziggy was five months old when I left. I just showed up at Coulson's in the middle of the night and he started making up the guest bedroom and May just made a bottle for Ziggy like it was the most ordinary thing in the whole world."

Jemma smiles slightly, running her thumb along the ridge of Daisy's knuckles. "And now here you are."

Daisy is sure that her surprise shows. She'd never thought about it like that, so focused on not repeating her mistakes that she hadn't ever really stopped to realize that she'd gotten out of her loop a while ago.

Because Jemma is right. Here she is: happy, working, with a happy and content little boy, having coffee with the first real friend she's made in years. It's easy to smile and mean it because the rest of it just feels so far away.

"Yeah," Daisy says softly, nodding. "Here I am."

* * *

 

It becomes an unspoken rule that weekends are for playdates and if Ziggy and Charlie mind spending all week together in class and then all weekend together romping around and creating various games and inventions then neither of them say anything. They just go off running around Charlie's backyard or building Lego cities in Ziggy's room while Jemma and Daisy sit around talking, laughing, wasting the hours away.

Since Daisy talked to Jemma about Ward she feels like a heaviness has been lifted off her chest, making it easier to stop thinking about him, to stop worrying that he's going to show up one day looking for his son or that Ziggy might have some of Ward inside him after all. With Jemma it's so much easier to put those thoughts and worries to rest and focus on what's right in front of her.

It's been nearly two months since Parent Night and Daisy has gotten used to seeing Jemma's name flashing on her phone, her texts providing necessary distractions from the day's work. Daisy is trying to work on fixing the holes in a program Coulson's company is using when her phone chimes and she glances away long enough to ascertain that the message is from Jemma.

She keeps one eye on the code, the other on the message from Jemma. _I have a work event Saturday night, a ridiculous party for Stark and the other board members that donate to the lab. Would you like to come? Be my date and make it less horrible?_

Naturally Daisy's eyes catch on the word 'date.' The thread that she's been feeling for the past several months, the one that seems to be invisibly connecting her to Jemma, has only grown stronger but there have been plenty of times where Daisy has caught herself thinking about Jemma and wondering if she's completely off base with her thoughts. She has no idea when she stopped thinking of Jemma as just her friend and started wishing that she could possibly be something more. Even more, she's found herself wondering if she's the only one thinking these thoughts.

But date could mean anything and the last thing Daisy needs is to assign it an unintended meaning.

_Sure_ , Daisy types back quickly because it's a no-brainer, regardless of Jemma's word choice, _any chance to get all dressed up and schmooze_.

They make plans for Jemma to bring Charlie over to Daisy's so they only have to find one sitter and the kids will have each other.

Of course, this results in another frantic round of Daisy cleaning everything and wishing that she didn't leave cleaning to these frantic, last-minute moments. "Ziggy!" She calls as she digs around in her closet for a pair of heels. "Did you clean up the living room? I don't want to see any more superheroes on the floor, I mean it!"

"Yes!" Ziggy shouts back at her from somewhere else in the apartment and Daisy can imagine the massive eyeroll. "They're in my room!"

Ah, heels. Score! Daisy grabs them, stepping out of the closet. "That living room better look perfect! Charlie and Jemma are going to be here any minute!"

It's perfect timing when there's a knock on the door. Ziggy goes scampering toward the door, throwing it open just as Daisy emerges from her bedroom, tugging on her heels even as she's heading for the door.

"Hi Miss Daisy," Charlie says cheerfully as she steps into the apartment, taking off her shoes and putting them by the front door. It's something she does at home, a requirement in the Simmons-Daniels household and Daisy thinks it's sweet that the little girl can look at the apartment and think that Daisy and Ziggy are the type of people who take their shoes off at the door. "Thank you for having me over."

She says this every time and honestly Daisy hopes that her son is paying attention. He's sweet, polite and quiet but she figures there's nothing wrong with learning more manners. "You're welcome…" Anything else Daisy had planned to say quickly dies in her throat when she looks up and sees Jemma.

Jemma is wearing a deep blue dress, simple and unadorned and perfectly fitted to the curves of her body that Daisy feels like she hasn't really noticed until this exact moment. This exact, perfect, wonderful, heart-stopping moment. It takes Daisy a minute to process the rest: Jemma's hair in a loose braid, the smudges of eyeshadow, the pink in her cheeks. Honestly Daisy almost loses her footing. At least she can blame it on trying to put her other heel on.

"Too much?" Jemma questions, glancing down at herself. Obviously Daisy's reaction hasn't gone unnoticed. "I was hoping for understated."

Daisy quickly shakes her head. "No, you look great," she assures Jemma quickly. "Beautiful."

Charlie smiles proudly at her. "I told you, Mom."

Ziggy looks over at Daisy. "You look beautiful too, Mom," he adds quickly.

Daisy grins at him. "Thanks, Zig." She smooths down the front of her dress. She feels a bit out of practice.

"You do," Jemma agrees and Daisy wonders if she's imagining the way her eyes seem to linger. "Thank you for agreeing to come tonight."

Daisy shrugs. "Totally not a hard choice," she assures Jemma.

Ziggy and Charlie hurry off to Ziggy's room and not long after, the sitter that Daisy found knocks on the door. She's a high school girl who lives in the building, one that Daisy has seen around but never had cause to use before. Normally she just asks Coulson and May to watch Ziggy but she hadn't wanted to bother them on a Saturday night and she hadn't wanted to go through the trouble of explaining her plans. There'd been a small part of her that had wanted her evening with Jemma to be something just between the two of them.

Jemma drives them toward the building she works in every day, a section of which has been converted into a makeshift ballroom to impress the donors and board members. "We do this every year," Jemma says in a tone that suggests she's not exactly happy about it. "I'm just glad I have someone to drag along to entertain me."

"Oh so that's all I am to you?" Daisy huffs out a breath. "Your entertainment?"

Jemma smirks. "Well, I thought you might prefer that to arm candy."

Daisy meets her eyes and she thinks, for the first time, that she's not the only one who might have been wondering if they could be something more. There's a lurch in her chest, all excited and nervous and her mouth goes dry.

When she reaches for Jemma's hand this time as they walk toward the building, it feels like there's a totally different meaning behind it.

* * *

 

All things considered, Daisy feels like the night is a success. There's champagne and tiny little cakes that Daisy has an embarrassing amount of and there's a live band and room to dance and most importantly there's Jemma. And dancing with Jemma. Mostly it's silly and for fun or to avoid the donors Jemma doesn't feel like being patronized by but there's a few slower dances in there too and by the end of it Daisy is full with a heavy sense of anticipation. She's practically vibrating with it and she hopes that Jemma doesn't notice.

Jemma's hair has come out of its braid, hanging around her shoulders in messy twists. Her cheeks are flushed and she's so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her. Daisy figures she'll just have to suffer.

They ditch their heels as soon as they get outside, though Jemma makes a face. "This is terrible," she says as they pick their way across the parking lot toward her car. "Charlotte would never believe I went outside barefoot."

"I could give you a piggy-back ride," Daisy laughs at herself, light-headed enough from the champagne and the dancing to feel brave and stupid enough to offer. "Then technically you aren't walking barefoot."

And somehow she ends up with Jemma hopping onto her back in a bizarre sort of piggy-back that is too lopsided to be effective. Jemma's arms are around Daisy's shoulders but she's not exactly keeping her feet off the asphalt and there's more stumbling than carrying going on and they're both laughing, breathless, by the time they stagger over to Jemma's car. Jemma leans against the car, half propped up on the hood, bare feet brushing the asphalt.

"That's a lot easier with Ziggy," Daisy confesses around her laughter, trying to regain her footing so she doesn't fall into Jemma. Any more than she already has.

Jemma pulls a haughty expression. "Are you implying something about my stature, Miss Johnson?" She lifts her eyebrow in a challenge.

Daisy nods. "Yeah, I am," she tells Jemma. "You're bigger than a six-year-old. It's a compliment, really."

Jemma grins, reaching out and resting her hand on Daisy's shoulder. "I'm glad you came," she says quietly. "Thank you for coming."

Daisy kisses her. It's the only thing she can think to do. Jemma's hand is in her hair and her own hand is resting on Jemma's hip and Daisy wants to just kiss and kiss and kiss her and never stop.

"This isn't the champagne, is it?" Daisy questions, quiet and breathless, as she forces herself away from Jemma's lips, though she's still holding onto her tightly.

Jemma shakes her head, swallowing. "No." Her fingers are still in Daisy's hair. "No. Kiss me, Daisy."

Daisy is happy to grant her request. She's happy to kiss and kiss and kiss her until they're both breathless and rumpled and tired and finally have enough sense to remember that they're in a parking lot and Jemma is all but sitting on the hood of her car. Even still, it's difficult to separate and get into the car.

The clock on the dash assures them that they're later than Daisy had told the sitter they would be but she figures it's worth the extra money she'll have to shell out. Totally worth it.

"We should do this more often," Daisy suggests as Jemma drives them back toward Daisy's apartment.

Jemma lifts an eyebrow. "The going out or the kissing?"

Daisy grins, feeling like an infatuated teenager. "Both. Definitely both," she assures Jemma. "Though I was talking about going out. I haven't had anyone I've wanted to go out with in a long time."

"I know what you mean," Jemma says with a nod. "It's nice to want to stay out all night with someone again."

Daisy knows exactly what she means. It's selfish, probably, but she wants it to be just her and Jemma for a little while longer.

Even still, they head toward home. Jemma parks her car outside of Daisy's apartment building and that infatuated teenager feeling returns when they spend the next several minutes fenagling a way to kiss around the gearshift, shedding their seatbelts and wrinkling their dresses.

It's late when Daisy finally unlocks the door to the apartment and she can hear the murmur from the TV when she steps inside. The sitter, Wanda, is sitting on the couch, watching what looks like a documentary on cheetahs and texting on her phone. She smiles brightly, apparently unbothered by the late hour.

"Sorry," Daisy apologizes softly as Jemma shuts the door behind them. "It went later than we thought."

Wanda gets up, folding the blanket she'd borrowed from Ziggy's room and laying it on the couch. "That's fine," she assures Daisy. "They're both asleep."

Jemma thanks her, sneaking past to go to Ziggy's room to check on the sleeping kids. Daisy fishes around in her purse for money to hand over to the still smiling Wanda. She has a feeling that no one understands the flushed-cheek, bruised lip, mused hair, infatuated teenager feeling that Daisy is currently experiencing better than a teenager. Judging by the hint of a smirk in Wanda's smile, anyway.

"Those kids are so cute," Wanda says as Daisy hands over the money. "I'll come back anytime. I don't think I've ever seen a brother and a sister who love each other that much. And I have a twin!"

"Oh," Daisy starts, "they aren't-"

But Wanda doesn't seem to hear her. "You guys have such a sweet family. I'm totally jealous. I hope I can have that one day." She opens the door, stepping out into the hallway. "Bye, Miss Johnson." She smiles and waves before starting on her way.

Daisy closes and locks the door behind her, shaking her head. Maybe she should have tried harder to set Wanda straight but…she does like the sound of it. Plus her mind is still addled from all the kissing so she can hardly be held responsible.

Jemma is standing in the doorway of Ziggy's bedroom, a soft smile on her face. At some point during the night, Ziggy and Charlie managed to build a fort and they're asleep inside it now, sprawled out on a pile of blankets and pillows. Charlie is snoring softly, braids all askew, holding tightly to Franklin, Ziggy's precious owl. Ziggy is curled into a ball and there's just the barest hint of a smile on his face, like he's having a pleasant dream.

"It's nice, don't you think?" Jemma says quietly so as not to wake them. "That they've managed to find each other."

Daisy looks at her, surprised to find Jemma is already watching her instead of the kids. "What do you mean?"

Jemma smiles softly. "They have so much in common; they'll understand each other in a way that no one else will," she says. "It's just nice to think that they were able to find each other so easily."

Daisy thinks she knows what Jemma means. She thinks the same could be said about the two of them, how that invisible thread has somehow managed to connect them and bring them together. It's odd and yet strangely comforting to think about how somewhere out there Jemma was experiencing the same things she was and that somehow they were moving steadily toward one another.

"Stay." Daisy surprises herself by saying the word softly but she doesn't want to take it back. "I mean, they're fast asleep and it's late. You don't have to drive home you can…just stay."

Jemma reaches for Daisy's hand, pulling her close. Daisy goes willingly. "I will," she says softly just as she kisses her and Daisy can't help but wonder if she's saying something else, something more.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that moment and the feel of Jemma's lips on her own.

* * *

 

Daisy wakes up slowly the next morning, coming awake slowly, in pieces, instead of all at once like she usually does. She feels the sun on her bare back, the delicious soreness in her muscles, the gentle, pleasant hum in her mind. She can hear the sounds of movement and the soft mumble of voices from somewhere in the house and the smell of something cooking. She can't help but smile, hiding her face briefly against the pillow so she can feel everything, hold onto it, take it all in.

But now that she's awake and aware of the world going on around her, staying in bed doesn't seem all that appealing.

Daisy gets up, getting dressed slowly. Her dress from the night before is laying in a heap along with Jemma's, their shoes kicked off into various corners of the room.

When Daisy walks into the kitchen, Ziggy sees her first, rolling his eyes. "It's about time, Mom."

He's sitting at the table beside Charlie, Franklin positioned between the two of them. Charlie is wearing her skirt from yesterday and one of Ziggy's shirts, the Captain America one Coulson got him for his birthday this past year. Daisy can see that Charlie isn't the only one wearing borrowed clothes; the sight of Jemma wearing a pair of her leggings and one of her oversized shirts is a pretty excellent one indeed.

Jemma looks over at her, smiling. "Ziggy said you have a penchant for sleeping in," she teases as she flips a pancake.

Daisy rolls her eyes. "That's a bit of an exaggeration."

"Not uh," Ziggy protests. "We're almost always _almost_ late for the bus. That's why I asked Grandpa to get me an alarm clock."

"That's…slander." Daisy points her finger at her son, shooting him a thanks-a-lot look that only makes him grin innocently at her. "It's happened like…three times…really."

Jemma only smiles, shaking her head. "Well, now here you are."

Daisy grins, looking at the kids at the table and the woman in the midst of making breakfast. "Yeah," she agrees. "Here I am."


End file.
